We watched the movie version of Sex and the City last night, courtesy of Netflix.
It was wasted on me. I didn't hate it. It just failed to engage me on any level.
One of the first things a movie should do is give you a reason to care about one or more of the characters. Sex and the City just didn't do that for me. If this were a slasher movie, I would be supremely indifferent about any of the characters getting hacked to bits.
From left to right in this photo we have rigid and angry, slutty and narcissistic, self-absorbed and immature, and dim and flakey.
Maybe it's my age or my Midwestern values, but I just can't force myself to give a damn about these women, their glamorous but empty lives, or the oh-so-fabulous places where they live and travel.
I've been to New York City, thought it was interesting and kinda fun, but have no desire to ever go there again. I certainly don't envy anyone who lives there.
And yes, I realize it's just a movie spun off from a TV series. Maria tells me the whole gal-pal thing comes through a lot stronger in the TV series, making it more engaging from a woman's standpoint. And yes, I'm fully aware that I am not even close to their target audience.
But I wouldn't be surprised to learn that Sarah Palin thinks Sex and the City is stupid too.
No comments:
Post a Comment